


Role Reversal

by egocentrifuge



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Clothed Frottage, Exhibitionism, First Time, In Media Res, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Multi, alluded to OT7, heaps and heaps of sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-21
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-06-09 17:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6916624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egocentrifuge/pseuds/egocentrifuge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“When were you going to tell me we were fucking married?” Joel asks, padding back to his living room. Now that he looks, there are touches of Lawrence everywhere—glasses cleaning cloths, an anime figurine, a fat book with a bookmark three quarters of the way through. His eye skips over the hat, the hoodie, the duffel bag he vaguely remembers James and Bruce convincing him to hold on to.</p><p>Lawrence voice holds a smile when he answers. “I figured it was only a matter of time before you snapped and started grinding on me on the sofa.”</p><p>Joel glances towards the sofa in question before swallowing. His face feels warm--he blames it on his phone.</p><p>“Is this a conversation we’re really having?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Role Reversal

**Author's Note:**

> My favorite part of a fic that's never going to be finished. Relevant excerpt:  
>    
>  _Joel takes in Spoole's quiet confidence, the paper towel he's unconsciously shredding, and can't help but laugh._
> 
>  _"You really think we're going to end up in a seven person relationship?"_  
>     
>  _"Aren't we kind of already?"_  
>     
>  _Joel snorts. "Sure," he sighs. "Why not." He pushes himself up and brushes past Spoole to leave this bizarre conversation, to ask Bruce if he'd know that Spoole and Peake were fucking. Spoole catches Joel's sleeve on the way out._
> 
>  
> 
> _"Hey, Joel," he starts. "It's—it's going to be fine. Everything going on."_
> 
>  
> 
> _Joel snags Spoole into a hug that's more hair ruffling than embrace._
> 
>  
> 
> _"Yeah," he agrees. "The world hasn't exploded yet."_

Joel waits until Lawrence is saying his goodnights to the chat to press call. There's a delay as the signal travels up in to space and then down into Lawrence's living room and the video hurtles through underground wires, then Lawrence glances down at his desk and smiles.

"It's Joel," he announces with a grin that, even charitably, looks pretty stupid. "Excuse me."

Joel can hear the grin on Lawrence's face when he answers the phone.

"Hey," Lawrence greets. "What's up?"

"What are you wearing?" Joel says lustily. It comes back to him in an echo as, exactly as expected, Lawrence had immediately put him on speaker phone. 

"Lacy lingerie," is Lawrence's prompt answer. "Hold on one second, I got my bra strap twisted..." He puts down the phone to wave to the camera before ending the stream.

"Nice," Joel says. "Didn't even say goodbye."

"I was doing that before you interrupted me," Lawrence gripes, His voice sounds different now; Joel imagines he's taken the phone off of speaker.

"It was a good stream," Joel says rather than own up to his part in its end. "Very informative. Full of stuff."

"What's on your mind?" Lawrence sighs. Joel rests his elbows on his desk and buries his free hand in his hair.

"How much do you know about Spoole's gay conspiracy theories?" he asks.

"What, like Abraham Lincoln?"

"That's not a conspiracy theory, Lawrence, that's a fucking historical fact."

"It was a fact that he was straight, too," Lawrence protests. "It's not our place to speculate on the sexuality of historical—"

"Oh my god shut up," Joel groans. "Spoole's theories!"

"One dollar one hour."

"No! Gay theories!"

"Cheap sex workers?"

"About us!" Joel finally hollers. Lawrence chuckles before answering.

"Absolutely nothing. What are Spoole's gay conspiracy theories about us?"

"That we're all going to end up in a relationship," Joel sighs, already regretting this conversation.

"I mean, aren't we already?"

"I hate you," Joel mutters. "That's exactly what Spoole said."

"I can only speak for myself, but I'd consider us in a relationship," Lawrence says, far too easily. Joel lets his head thunk down onto his desk.

"Think about it," Lawrence insists. "We spend all week together—" 

"For work."

"And you call me on the weekends—"

"Not every week!"

"And you watch my streams—" 

"They're good background noise, we've discussed this—"

"And you know my birthday and my eye color and my favorite foods."

"You have very low relationship standards," Joel accuses.

"Not my fault you're a shit boyfriend."

"I'm not your boyfriend," Joel whines. It's Lawrence's turn to sigh.

"Okay, get up," he demands. "Go to the kitchen."

"Why?" Joel asks even as he stands. "Are you hiding in the pantry?"

"Forget about the pantry. Open the cupboard above your microwave."

Joel flicks on the kitchen light and dutifully looks at the shelf in question. There's a random assortment of dishes, two coffee mugs, and an absurd collection of instant coffee.

"Are you looking at it?" Lawrence asks.

"Yeah."

"That's my shelf."

"I see that," Joel says. "Why do I have—" He does a quick count. "Seven different plates, and—this is too much coffee for one man."

"You forget that you have it every time I come over, so you get another canister," Lawrence explains patiently. "You think it's funny. The plates you buy because they're all fucking hideous and you know I like patterns on my dishware. The mugs are a couple's set you bought us because they're, in your words, obnoxiously cute, just like me when I'm—and I'm quoting again here—waking up without my glasses on and all disoriented and stuff."

"I don't remember this shelf," Joel accuses.

"Because you never fucking go in your kitchen," Lawrence sighs. "I set it up last time I did your dishes because you got stoned out of your goddamn mind and fell asleep on the floor."

"I remember that."

"Good to know you haven't completely fried your brain," Lawrence laughs. Joel continues to stare at the cupboard.

"This is pretty gay," he admits. He pictures Lawrence's shrug.

"And?" Lawrence asks. "How do you feel about it?"

"Us apparently being in a relationship?"

"Oh, that too. I meant the Funhaus orgy theory."

"Fuck, Lawrence," Joel laughs. "I just found out we were dating, I don't know if I can handle dating five other people on top of that."

"Fair point," Lawrence says. He yawns. "We should go with Sean and Matt next, they're a little more settled than--"

"You know about them?" Joel demands. There's a pause.

"Yes?" Lawrence hazards. "I had to keep them from fucking in your kitchen, so, yeah."

Joel turns around and glares at the spot he remembers Spoole and Peake sitting together at.

"Those bastards! In my own home?" 

"And without inviting you?" Lawrence mocks. Joel doesn't examine the validity of that statement.

"When were you going to tell me we were fucking married?" he asks instead, padding back to his living room. Now that he looks, there are touches of Lawrence everywhere—glasses cleaning cloths, an anime figurine, a fat book with a bookmark three quarters of the way through. His eye skips over the two hats, the stack of phone and laptop charges, the duffel bag he vaguely remembers James and Bruce convincing him to hold on to.

Lawrence voice holds a smile when he answers. "I figured it was only a matter of time before you snapped and started grinding on me on the sofa."

Joel glances towards the sofa in question before swallowing.

"Is this a conversation we're really having?" he asks.

"Sounds a lot like it."

"I mean, we could be grinding on the sofa right now," Joel insists. He's rewarded by Lawrence's laughter.

"Not on the first date," he scolds.

"But we've apparently been dating for years!"

"Platonically."

"It's—it's not been entirely platonic," Joel realizes even as he says it. "I, oh my god, I totally fucking..."

"I know," Lawrence comforts. "What do you think I did when I realized?"

Joel runs a hand through his hair. "Masturbated furiously?" he guesses. Lawrence's laugh is more comforting than Joel is ready for.

"Into one of your socks," Lawrence says. It takes a moment for Joel to parse this and then he's throwing his phone onto the sofa.

"Eugh! Lawrence!"

Joel can hear his laughter even from the other side of the couch, where he throws himself dramatically to think.

Did he love Lawrence? Of course he fucking did—the man was like a toasted marshmallow, it was impossible not to love him. Was Joel _in love_ with Lawrence? Trickier question, requiring subheadings. Did Joel want to make out with Lawrence until they were both light-headed? Yeah, but the same was true about a lot of people.

 _At least six,_ his mind provides. It's in Spoole's voice.

"I've got it bad," Joel tells Lawrence as he picks his phone back up. "I've got it bad for six fucking people."

"Not _fucking_ yet," Lawrence chuckles. "Give it time."

Joel shakes his head and flops down to lay on the couch. There's a lot to tackle in this conversation, a lot to think about, but for now... 

"Want to get lunch tomorrow?" he asks.

"Brunch," Lawrence replies immediately. "You can drink during brunch."

"You fucking alchy," Joel laughs. 

"How much have you smoked this weekend?" Lawrence fires back.

"It's non-addictive!"

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Weed does!"

"Go get your bowl on, then," Lawrence laughs. "I'm going to bed."

"Hey, wait."

"Yeah?"

Joel drags his hand down his torso absently. "Is it okay if I jerk off to you?"

Lawrence snorts and ends the call.

 _Is that a yes,_ Joel texts him once he's done laughing. The response is Lawrence's proudest selfie, Matrix edition.

 _Jerk off to this,_ the caption reads.

Joel sends him an blurry selfie of his exaggerated O-face in retaliation, followed by _challenge accepted._

 _In all seriousness, do what you want,_ Lawrence texts back as Joel is brushing his teeth. Joel lets the toothbrush hang from his mouth as he types back.

_Want a shaft shot?_

_A what?_

Joel rolls his eyes and finds the link to the RT short.

 _Honestly,_ he sends next. _They're our parent company. I expected better of you._

As he's pulling on his pajamas—or at least, his pajama top—Joel's phone goes off. He opens it to find what looks like a performance of Cats bracketed by—

"Oh my god," Joel breathes, torn between outrage and laughter. What he recognizes from covert glances at the urinal and too many shared hotel rooms as Lawrence's dick ( _holy shit,_ Joel realizes, _I've been lusting after Lawrence for years)_ is sticking up in the bottom of the photo.

 _That's my boy,_ Joel texts back after he's done dealing with that mini-crises. _Now I truly feel loved and respected._

 _Good,_ comes back a moment later. _Also, may I return the favor re: jacking off?_

Joel's laughter dies in his throat. Lawrence was asking him for permission to...

_Oh hell yeah. If you don't I'll be offended._

_Well in that case, don't want to disappoint_

\-------------

They figure out the details for brunch like they do any other engagement, meaning Joel calls Lawrence on his way over then makes them both coffee as Lawrence grumbles around his apartment getting ready. Joel makes cheap potshots about the bags under Lawrence's eyes and what he was up late doing, Lawrence retorts by accusing Joel of not taking long if he's that well rested, and by the time they make it to the breakfast place down the street they're shoving and teasing each other like normal.

The entire thing is so fucking mundane that Joel almost forgets their conversation from the night before until Lawrence makes a reference to Mr. Mistoffelees and Joel's dick twitches in interest.

 _Oh, that's right,_ Joel realizes after a moment to wonder why he's having a sexual reaction to a musical. _Lawrence and I are... we're.... this is date._

"What are you into?" Joel blurts then, somewhere between their second and third mimosas. 

"Anime," is Lawrence's immediate answer.

"No," Joel says. "I mean, sexually." He points threateningly when Lawrence opens his mouth. "If you say anime we're done here."

Lawrence grins. "Fine," he says, adding a muttered _The term is hentai,_ Joel chooses to ignore. "What do you think I'm into?"

"Besides anime? Ugh, I don't know. I didn't think about you sexually until last night. Maybe. At least not consciously."

"Come on," Lawrence insists. "You jacked off to me, right? What were you thinking of?"

Joel looks at Lawrence's face, at his shit-eating grin, and turns his head away to laugh.

"Your mouth," he admits. "Shutting the fuck up for once."

"That can be arranged," Lawrence says easily.

"Yeah? I didn't tell you what it was doing instead," Joel warns. Lawrence spreads his hands flat on the table and leans forward confidently.

"I can guess," he says.

"You really can't," Joel counters.

"You may not realize this, Joel, but I have known you for a very long time. I can say fairly confidently that I know what you're into."

Joel grins. "Prove it," he says.

Lawrence huffs out a quiet laugh before grabbing and downing his mimosa.

"I'm worshiping you," he starts. Joel's mouth goes dry. "Starting with the feet, because I'm on the floor—not because I belong there, but because I'm prostrating myself to you. I'm wearing some outfit for you, maybe one of yours, maybe just clothes of mine you picked out. I'm lavishing kisses and licks on your feet and ankles, even putting your toes in my mouth just because I wouldn't be willing for anyone else but _am_ for you and it's enough for you to let me, to give me permission start working up your legs. When I get to your knees—oh, can I get another of these? Thank you"

Joel startles as he realizes Lawrence has pulled aside their waiter, who looks at the empty glass Joel's clutching in question.

"A... a water for me, thanks," Joel manages. Lawrence smirks at him before launching right back into his narration.

"You let me use my hands, now, kneading your calves as I worship your thighs with my mouth, but you know I'm getting too wound up because I'm using more and more teeth."

Joel can picture it, _has_ pictured it—Lawrence's stupidly gorgeous eyes looking up at him from between Joel's legs, waiting for prompting because he's finally letting someone else call the shots for once, letting himself be praised and petted instead of exhausting himself trying to moderate the others.

"Here you are," the waiter says, tearing Joel from the charged silence they had settled into.

The waiter sets the mimosa in front of Lawrence before settling Joel's water in front of him. He grabs it immediately, letting the cool glass ground him enough to speak without his voice cracking.

"Could we have the check? Just the one."

"Should I keep going?" Lawrence asks when they're alone again. It's a poor consolation that his pupils are as dilated as Joel's doubtlessly are, because _how the fuck did Lawrence know._

"Is this something you've thought about a lot?" Joel finally asks. Lawrence shrugs.

"You always bring pajamas when you come over to my place, but tell me not to worry about it when I come to yours. And every time we're at a convention you try and get me to wear that fucking sweater."

"It's a good sweater," Joel says. He looks at Lawrence look at him, notes the way Lawrence licks his lips before taking a drink.

"And the... the rest of it?" Joel asks.

Lawrence finally has the good grace to look embarrassed.

"I, ah, I used your laptop during the move and the search bar autocompleted—"

"Oh, no," Joel half laughs, half groans. "To the, uh—"

"Yeah," Lawrence confirms. "I, uh, followed a few links, read up on it." Here he shrugs again. "If it's what gets you hot, I'm into it."

Joel bites the inside of his cheek hard to avoid embarrassing them both with some kind of exclamation.

"To be clear," he manages after a moment to collect himself. "What links did you follow?"

Lawrence drops his gaze to the table. "Explaining the Caregiver/Little Roles," he quotes. "Taking Care of Your Submissive. Leaving the World at the Door—"

"Stop," Joel says. It comes out a little more shrill than he had planned. Lawrence trails off and looks back up to Joel, head tilted carefully. 

"It's..." Joel starts, clears his throat, tries again. "It's not a requirement."

"I know." Lawrence smiles. "I want to do it for you, though."

Lawrence might as well have gotten on his knees right then and there. 

"Oh my god," Joel laughs helplessly. It eases some of the pressure when Lawrence starts laughing in turn.

"I'm going to cream my pants like a fucking teenager," Joel giggles into his hand. Lawrence nearly snorts into his mimosa.

"Let me finish my drink," he insists. They're both still laughing when the check comes but Joel just about slaps Lawrence's hand when he reaches for it.

"No," he says, then more gently, "no, let me. Let me take care of it."

"Take care of me," Lawrence corrects with a small grin. Joel blows out a shaky laugh.

"Yeah, this is," he says eloquently. "You are truly, actually going to kill me."

"Wait until you get your hands on Adam," Lawrence warns with a cheeky smile. "From what Bruce has told me—"

"If you don't finish that drink right now I'm leaving without you," Joel warns. Lawrence obediently tips the mimosa back and stands.

"Lead the way, then," he says gallantly. Joel stares at him, pulse pounding, before finally reaching out and taking Lawrence's hand.

Lawrence doesn't smirk, doesn't mouth _gay_ like Joel is expecting. Lawrence _does_ lean forward with a small smile and kisses Joel on the cheek.

"You want the keys?" he whispers. "For, y'know, the whole effect?"

Joel looks at the wonderful man he didn't know he could have been fucking and has to concentrate very hard on not tackling him back into their booth and rimming him into tomorrow.

Lawrence squeezes Joel's hand. "Anyone home?" He reaches up and, with unerring accuracy, pokes Joel straight on the nipple. "Ding dong," he starts to say, but it's muffled when Joel puts his entire hand onto Lawrence's face and pushes him.

"Keep your damn keys," he decides, already pulling Lawrence out of the restaurant, down the sidewalk. "We've had five years of foreplay—this is going to be the quick and dirty version. Fuck power dynamics."

Lawrence sighs dramatically. "And here I was going to wear that sweater for you. You know, the gray one—"

It's too much, and Joel _has_ been drinking, so he thinks it's entirely reasonable that he spins around, crowds into Lawrence's space, and kisses him hard. There's enough force behind it that Lawrence stumbles until his back hits a lamppost. Joel's hands keep his head from banging on it as they grab his hair and pull and, holy shit, Lawrence jerks his hips and Joel can feel his erection.

"How long have you been hard?" Joel demands, pulling back just far enough to meet Lawrence's eyes. His glasses are smudged, his eyes are slightly glazed, and Joel has to repeat the question before Lawrence speaks.

"Uh, since the—since the thing," he says vaguely. "Thinking of you watching me on me knees."

Joel rests his head in the crook of Lawrence's neck and blows out a long breath.

"New plan," he says. "As soon as I step back, you're going to turn and go to your apartment. I want you to change into your gray sweater and your nicest briefs, black if you have them."

"I—I have black panties," Lawrence manages. Joel has to stop himself from biting the racing pulse under his lips, but there's no hiding the way his cock twitches against Lawrence's thigh.

"You're going to be so good for me, aren't you?" he murmurs. Lawrence swallows hard enough for Joel to hear.

"Ideally," he says. "That would be, yes, what I want to be."

"You will be," Joel assures him. "Once you're dressed, I want you write a list for me, okay?"

"Like, groceries?" Lawrence breathes. Joel huffs out a laugh against his throat.

"Yes, you fucking goober, a grocery list. While you're standing around in nothing but a sweater and panties." He straightens up so he can grin at Lawrence, who looks very hard like he's trying not to laugh.

"I'm sorry," he says. "It's very—it's very hard to think when I can feel your erection."

"Right?" Joel says dryly, watching fondly as Lawrence tries to reign himself back under control. The steady gyration of Joel's leg between Lawrence's probably isn't helping.

"Try doing what I'm doing," Joel teases, feeling pretty worked up himself.

"I have done," Lawrence admits softly. "Normally do. This is—new for me."

Joel sucks in a breath. There's something about the look on Lawrence's face, the fingers clutching at his hips, and Joel suddenly knows. "You're a Dom?" he asks. Lawrence smiles weakly. "Not—not even a switch?"

"Traditionally, yeah. Who knows, I might suck at this. Or hate it."

"You don't have to--" Joel starts. Lawrence moves his hips pointedly. He is still undeniably hard.

"I want to," Lawrence says. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious, and you're—" His cheeks pink.

"I'm?" Joel prompts.

"I'd really like to see you in a corset and stockings," Lawrence finishes hoarsely.

Joel waits until Lawrence meets his eyes, then smiles.

"What do you think I'm driving home to get?"

Maybe it's the alcohol, maybe it's the five years of foreplay, maybe it's the fact that Joel hasn't stopped grinding his thigh between Lawrence's leg, but Joel is suddenly in the unique position of being able to both watch and feel Lawrence cream his pants. Lawrence's eyes widen in shock—hell, Joel can feel his own eyes widening—before snapping closed and he coughs hard to cover a moan. It is undoubtedly the most beautiful thing Joel has ever seen.

The moment hangs crystalline between them for a moment before a gaggle of teens walking by shatters it. Lawrence coughs again. Joel looks up at him innocently.

"You okay, champ?" he asks. Lawrence responds by shoving Joel away half-heartedly.

"Never again," he mutters, slinging an arm around Joel's shoulders and leaning on him heavily. "I am not an exhibitionist. I am—I am horrified this just happened. I need a shower and one of those Men in Black flashy things."

"Put it on the list," Joel tells him, rubbing soothing circles in Lawrence's back as they hobble along. He considers abandoning his plan to fetch his gear to stay and make sure Lawrence is okay, but Lawrence is already starting to chuckle.

"I want your greens, yellows, and reds," Joel goes on.

"Still sounds like a grocery list," Lawrence laughs. He squeezes Joel's shoulders before Joel can sigh. "I know, I know. I've done this, remember?" He pauses. "If—I mean, I'm not going to push you for it, but if you could make me one as well—"

"Of course," Joel says with a smile. Lawrence relaxes, which means he puts more of his weight on Joel, which means they both laugh as they almost stagger into the street.

"This is absurd," Lawrence announces as they approach his building. Joel raises his eyebrows.

"You were the one who was so calm about this yesterday," he accuses. Lawrence pulls away to throw up his hands.

"I didn't—you were on the other end of a phone, okay?"

Joel puts his hands on his hips—Lawrence's eyes drop to his waist immediately. 

"Are you having second thoughts?" he asks. Despite the context, despite the wet patch on Lawrence's jeans, despite the erection Joel is still sporting, he's serious, and he waits for Lawrence to meet his gaze before he repeats the question.

"Is this something you want?" he says quietly. 

There's a beat. "I wasn't joking about never having done this," Lawrence warns. "But believe me when I say— _yes._ I want it. This. You."

Joel breathes out a sigh of relief.

"Okay," he says. He drops his hands from his hips and ruffles his hair as he thinks. "Then, ah, when you're done with the list, do whatever you want except drink until I'm back, okay?"

Lawrence smiles. "Okay," he echoes. "Is there... a way you want me to greet you?"

"Ass first," Joel says promptly, then snorts. "Joking. I don't care, sweetie. We're going to have serious talkies before we get down to the bad stuff—we can set out some rules then?"

"Sounds good," Lawrence chuckles. He leans forward and presses another painfully chaste kiss to Joel's cheek before turning and starting the awkward come-in-my-pants-dance up the stairs of his apartment.

"Oh, Lawrence?" Joel calls. Lawrence stops and looks back— _so obedient already,_ Joel thinks, and feels slightly bad for what he's about to do.

"Don't clean up," he sing-songs. It's both a blessing and a gift to watch Lawrence's hands tighten on the railing.

"You're _vile,"_ Lawrence accuses as Joel saunters away. "Can I at least put the pants in the laundry?"

"Only if you do it in your panties," Joel calls back. There's still not many people around at this hour, but the fact that absolutely no one turns to look at Joel after that proclamation makes him feel warm thoughts towards LA.

He's stopped at the last light before his apartment when his phone shouts its Lawrence specific ringtone—a clip of Krieger's virtual girlfriend from Archer sighing a very sexual "Krieger-san". Joel's stomach twists with nervousness and anticipation but he forces himself to wait until he's successfully parked to open the message.

All the air escapes Joel in a rush when he sees the picture. It's a POV shot down Lawrence's chest—Joel would recognize those squeezable titties from any angle—of him in the promised black panties, holding a very clearly soiled pair of pants over a washing machine. The washing machine that Joel knows is in the basement of his apartment building. The very public washing machine that Lawrence would have had to walk through the entire building to get to.

Joel finds himself light-headed from the force of the blood rushing to his dick. He has to close his eyes and tilt his head back on the headrest like he's getting road head and not a picture of his maybe apparently boyfriend's literal dirty laundry. When he finally manages to look back down his thumb has typed out an eloquent "edfsd." He considers pressing send but ends up taking a screenshot instead—better to show Lawrence the joke later and reward him seriously now.

The picture is old, taken on a disposable camera during a play party, but a dear friend had found and scanned it and Joel has had it on his phone ever since. It shows his firetruck red corset and garter belt combo, as well as the heart shaped pasties the host had given out as party gifts. Joel is holding a riding crop and someone had stuck a paper crown on his head—Queen of Hearts, he'd been dubbed.

He sends it to Lawrence now with the caption, _Your reward. And for the record, you could have worn the sweater._

The response comes immediately and full of typos— _T would hbeen too weird._

Joel lets out a deep breath that turns into a laugh and heads in to his apartment.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at egocentrifuge.tumblr.com


End file.
